A reader in Canada, who manages a team of truck drivers many of whom are British, wrote me this in an email.

The weather continues to be bad, last night in Northern Ontario one of my trucks was in an accident that amazingly had no fatalities, or even any injuries! He was proceeding up a hill on the highway and another truck was coming down the hill, in the other direction. Just as they were passing each other, going in opposite directions, the other trucks trailer jackknifed out right in front of my driver and he and his truck went right through it! Remarkably, considering the force of the impact was enough to shear the engine out of my drivers unit out onto the highway and send both front wheels into opposite directions into the woods on either side, he came out without a scratch.

Accidents do happen and with no apparent fault on anybodies part. And thankfully sometimes they come out like this one. No scratches.

Snow mounding up in an Edmonton parking lot.

This story is here to remind us that while spring might be just around the corner (several corners) there is still the possibility of snow. I’ve no inside information however my Girl Guide motto remains with me. Be Prepared! And quoting the captain (I think it was him) in Hill Street Blues, Be careful out there!

Amazing what a bit of sun can do. Happened upon the Buddha this afternoon caught in a sun beam. Paused a long moment before chasing down my camera to record the moment, for you.

Buddha with ‘wheel’ of amber

Earlier pleasantly surprised to find my brain working sufficiently well to string a few sentences together of a thoughtful nature. It has been almost a month now, traveling unknowingly in brain fog. That’s the fog that engulfs the mind and has one locked into an all consuming world of pain and worry. The fog has lifted and now I know why thinking and writing has been such a struggle.

Amazing what a bit of sun can do. Lifts the spirits. Packed a flask of hot water, milk and a tea bag this afternoon. Climbed up a nearby field and paused for a long moment sitting against a stone wall. Brrr, still a bit chilly.

The unmoving wall looking towards the Yorkshire Dales

Yesterday I did nothing for two minutes. If you want to give it a try follow the link and then click on the ocean to start the timer. Two minutes seems like an eternity so accustomed am I to moving a mouse and tapping the keyboard when looking at my computer screen. Remembering my two minute eternity of doing nothing I chose to observe inactivity up there by the wall. Nature lends itself to quiet contemplation.

Amazing what a bit of sun can do. Shafting across the chilled land, picking out the school bus taking children home to distant farms and hamlets. So good to have this chance to sit and drink tea in the company of sheep, and my own non foggy brain!

In the folds of the Upper Eden Valley

I know I am not alone, a lone suffer of what I am calling brain fog. There’s a long list of physical, mental and emotional states which has the brain less than sharp. Which locks the person into themselves, sometimes for years at a time. My troubles have been small and short lived. Writing now, thoughts of those whose mental capacities are compromised, perhaps long term, sends a light of small appreciation for what that must be like.

What ever the level
of light,
pausing long enough
to allow what’s there to
enter in
is a very good thing.

I was completely taken up by this story. And even more taken up by the documentary photographs Vivian Maier took on the streets of Chicago using black and white film. The format is two and a quarter inches square using a twin-lens reflex camera.

The story of Vivian Maier is so incredible that the man who discovered her says: “If you made this up for Hollywood it would be like, ‘Oh, come on, that’s too hard to believe.’ She is,” he adds, “the most riveting person I have ever encountered.

Following links on this story I see that there is a documentary film being made about Ms. Maier as well as a book of her photographs. But what really interested me was a comment made about her in an interview. Along with all the great qualities about her photographs she was complemented on being a really driven photographer. And she certainly was. Her days off were spent taking photographs. There are years worth of images which nobody saw, except her. There were boxes of undeveloped films. Images even she hadn’t seen.

Driven? It wasn’t fame or fortune that had her taking pictures. It wasn’t necessarily that she was interested in the photographs as photographs to display – the undeveloped rolls speaks of that. (Well maybe she ran out of money, who knows.) Putting myself in her position, and in fact I was in a similar position in my teens as a nanny taking pictures on my days off, I think she just delighted in seeing. Of catch that moment. That seems to be IT. She was taken up with the act of picture taking.

What I know of documentary photography I see a cracking good collection. Almost every image matches or surpasses those of the great documentary photographers. Feast your eyes.

Excitement over. Back to my little point and shoot digital wonder.

Hat tip to Iain from Little House in The Paddy for putting me onto this story. He talks about Square Images in his post on this collection of photographs. I notice the angle of view the pictures are taken from. With a twin lens reflex the camera is held around waist height and one composes the picture looking down on a ground glass screen. I feel there is more of an intimate connection between camera and subject as a result.

(Note: the twin-lens can be used at eye level but I rarely used it that way.)